


Growing Seeds

by PiningSeeker



Series: Gardens They Grow [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Family Issues, Insomnia, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-08-07 19:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16414742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiningSeeker/pseuds/PiningSeeker
Summary: Everyone praises Green for his work in bringing Red back and helping him adjust to society, but in reality, it is Red that helps Green cope and more, but hides his own struggles.Or: Green needs help beyond therapy and beyond Blue. Red remains for that and more, even with his own problems locking him in place.





	1. One of Many

When you wake up, it's strangely comfortable, in a way you aren't used to, and it doesn't register until you focus in on a mass of brown hair curled up in front of you that you've returned to society, and more importantly, to Green. Granted, it was to save him, and you stay only because of him, but you think the reasoning is okay, and enough to not really consider going back.

You know there's a chance that you'll be overwhelmed into the mountain again, but you are able to come back down, more often, with less difficulty, knowing Green is here.

Especially because you know Green will be waiting here.

Right now, he's curled up tightly in his sleep, something you noticed earlier in the hospital bed. It must be bad for him. Not the curling up, but the tightly part, tense and stiff. Your arms are already around him, and you can feel the trembling. 

Your chest tightens uncomfortably when you recall the pills Green swallowed the night before. It hurt to see him splutter and cough, drinking an excess of water only to fail several times before they went down successfully. You tried to stop him, but he insisted, panic in his eyes, so you folded.

They work, but not well. Green sleeps, but doesn't rest. It shows when he wakes up in a panic and shoves you off of him. He sits, but curls up again, shaking so badly that you can feel it through the bed. When you reach towards him, he pulls away, eyes wide with fear and without recognition.

"Stop," he whimpers, and there's so much fear in his voice that you don't try again, but he continues to repeat the single word, voice shaking more and more each time. When he stops, his breathing in short and shallow gasps. Seizing his hands forces Green to look, and really look, at your hands, and his eyes follow your arm up to your face.

He finally registers that you are here, but his breathing doesn't slow. 

"Re.... Red... Help." The words tremble and crack as he starts hyperventilating. You scoot closer to him, grasp his hands firmly, and press one to your chest, over your heart, and one to your cheek. You can feel the chill of his hands through the shirt you wear and directly from the one against your cheek as you start breathing deeply, slowly, letting Green feel the rise and fall of your chest, your heartbeat, the slow inhalations and exhalations. You hold his gaze with your own, and slowly but surely, his breathing slows, the panic fades, and he slumps forward into your arms. You cradle him, gently rubbing the small of his back and pressing soft kisses to his head, until he looks up at you.

Green looks exhausted, even though he just woke up, and your heart almost stops when he says "I need to get ready to go to the gym." You tug a blanket over his shoulders and shake your head insistently, begging in the ways you can, but he doesn't fold.

"I've tons of paperwork I need to catch up on. There's a training session planned for today, and gym's been closed for too long as well. The League will be furious if I don't."

You swallow unhappily and let him go, frustrated. The bags under his drooping eyes are terrible, he staggers as he walks, his shoulders slump, and there's a heaviness to his words you don't like. You wonder how no one sees any of this, how no one tries to help Green with it at all. There is nothing that comes to mind that can rationalize letting someone suffer like this, and yet, here he is. An unpleasant knot of discomfort builds up, but when he walks back out the bathroom, everything gets thrown off track.

Green walks straight, back straight and shoulders back but not slumped. The bags under his eyes are still there, but he looks alert and alive, a complete switch from the dead, exhausted Green some minutes ago. The smile on his face suggests that all is right in the world minus some hours of sleep, and when he sees your expression, he laughs.

"What are you so surprised for?" The smirk on his face is more like the Green others expect, and that's when it hits you.

_Green is pretending._

You snatch up the notebook placed on the bed stand besides you.

_"You are being fake."_

With a sigh, Green flops face-first onto the bed. His voice is muffled when he speaks, but all the exhaustion from before weighs down each word.

"Yes, I know."

* * *

You don't know what to do exactly when Green leaves. There's no urge to return to Mount Silver, much to your surprise, but with that out of the way, it really sinks in that you... Don't have much else.

Green has his own thing, his job as gym leader, but you have nothing like that, nor do you think you'd want like it.

Too many people.

Too easy for the reporters to get you.

A different sense of discomfort settles when it sinks in that to do anything along the lines of your routine in Mount Silver requires exiting the house... Which means people.

Just thinking about those few days, all those years ago, makes you anxious and uneasy. The safety of the house does little to aide your discomfort, and you find yourself placing you hand over your heart, feeling it beat.

Your Pokemon are currently outside, basking in the warmth of the sunlight, leaving you no one to reassure with their own appendage. It makes your heart ache for them and you end up peering through the windows to watch them.

There's no water for Lapras to wade in, but she seems perfectly content to settle on the grass. She seems to be humming softly, judging from how Blastoise is sitting right next to her, head tilting in her direction. Occasionally, the two exchange a shower of water. 

Venusaur is happily stretching in the light, plainly happy to feel the strength of the rays upon his back. Already, his flower looks healthier and more vibrant than the day before, to your own delight. Charizard sunbathes next to Venusaur, flat on his stomach with outstretched wings. The fire on his tail burns brightly as it lazily sweeps back and forth.

Snorlax is asleep under the shade of the trees in the corner of the yard. You can't really tell if the move made him any happier, but you know that he will be able to eat more now, with access to more food. 

Pikachu is the only one you can't see, and pangs of fear shoot through you. You rush to the door, hand turning the knob, but can't bring yourself to open past a crack.

"Chu!"

A sense of relief floods your body at the sound of Pikachu's cry. A moment later, he pops up at the door, peering in through the crack. The tiny creature blinks at you through the slit, matching your gaze. His paw nudges the door open just a little further as he reaches in.

You hold the paw gratefully. It didn't matter how childish the act is or how small the paw is in comparison to yours, not when it brought a such sense of comfort that few things can match. 

The comfort vanishes, replaced by cold weight settling into your stomach, when Pikachu tries to tug your hand outside. Your body stiffens, and you tug back gently. 

"Ka..."

He withdraws his paw, and through the now wider crack, you can see his ears pointing down dejectedly, eyes mournful. You swallow, just as sad, as you look outside and see how much everyone is enjoying the day.

You slip a finger outside, tentatively. The warmth shining down is incredibly welcoming, a wonderful change from the years of chill in the mountains. Pikachu clutches the single finger, ears perking up. He tugs again, giving an encouraging cry.

But you pull away.

The reporters were just as warm and welcoming, until the questions began, microphones shoved into your face, and the cameras pressed far, far too close for comfort.

Questions, questions, questions.

And you had no time to answer even a single one, much less the barrage.

"Pi... Pika." Pikachu peers through the narrow opening again, a paw reaching towards you. When you rest your finger on it, he slips inside to be with you, allowing the door to close completely behind him. He climbs into your lap, then puts his paws onto your left arms. With that, he has enough leverage to press a cheek to your chest, right over your heart. You rest a hand on top of his head, ever grateful for the understanding your Pokemon have.

Even if you don't talk.

...

Pikachu is looking at you. He gives you an encouraging nuzzle, one he's given you many times before, often after many tough social interactions through your journey. You have a feeling it will return many times more now that you've wholeheartedly decided to settle where others live.

Deciding to try again, you slide open the door, just a crack, and slip a pointer finger through.

A few hours later, with much encouragement from each of your Pokemon, you manage to stick out a thumb as well.


	2. The Apple and The Tree

It's not that far a walk between your place and the gym. Normally, it's ten minutes, or a few minutes flight if you call out Aerodactyl. Most of the time, you don't. A good walk is nice to stretch out your legs, especially since you'll be cooped up in the gym for the better part of the day.

At least, it would be a good walk if...

"Green! Would you spare a few minutes?"

"And here we see the Viridian Gym leader himself. Despite the rumours, he looks quite well-"

"The man that brought the legend himself down-"

"Red, the elusive former champion, was seen..."

You walk straight towards the gym, not even sparing a glance to any hopeful reporter and camera crew, knowing that giving even that little would be misconstrued as some invitation. Reporters left and right are scattered about, pining for your voice. A big part of you wonders how could you have ever wanted this sort of attention and hounding, while another smaller part shoves the answer away.

The egg is with you, snug in its little container, and you can't help but smile a little bit at it, as silly as it seems. According to Gold, holding it without the container is better for the egg, as direct contact seems to encourage a faster hatching time, but you don't want to risk dropping it. Perhaps you can do so once you settle into your desk at the gym, warm and with little to jostle it. Thinking about the desk makes you want to sigh, but you hold it in so the reporters wouldn't snatch it up for some interpretive exclusive or whatnot. 

You don't hate the job. Granted, it is far, far more than "Stand at the end of a gym and fight," which you had childishly and foolishly believed all those years ago, but then again, is any job as ideal as pictured? Today, it just feels more tiring and weary, but the source is difficult to pinpoint. You muse over it, just a little, but push the feelings down. Time to think will come later, during all the sit down time. Cuddle the egg, tire your hands out with writing, and possibly leave the desk for a challenger that makes it past all of your trainers. It's not the most exciting job, contrary to popular belief, but it's steady and stable (also contrary to popular belief).

Arceus knows you need something stable in your life.

Arriving at the gym, your heart lifts at the sight of your trainers huddling at the door. You can see their jaws dropping as they see you approach, asmug smile slowly spreads on your face in return. Then you see their faces fall when they look past you, and curious, you turn around. 

Behind you is Professor Oak.

Your body freezes up instantly, mouth going dry, and you can only stare in fear as he steps closer.

"Green."

His voice is older and more tired, but still stern, still strict, still filled with disapproval and disappointment. He's aged in the past few years, not that most people would notice, so old to them already. More wrinkles, more tiredness is in eyes, and his steps have a slight pause in them, like each one tires him more.

None of that matters to you, even as you notice it all, because he is too close, too close.

Turn around and run, run, run.

You manage to do half of it, turning around stiffly and jerkily walking towards the gym entrance. Each breath comes too short and too shallow, but you keep walking away.

"Green!"

You ignore it, a small sense of pride blooming at how well you are handling it, even if you can't breathe, even if your movements are unnaturally stiff, even if your legs just want to fold under you, even if you just want to collapse and cry.

Everything is going as well as you could have hoped, until you feel a strong grip on your shoulder. Your body freezes at the contact. Professor Oak seems out of breath himself, but when he speaks, it's still firm and steady.

"Green, look at me when I am speaking to you."

Your legs give out.

"Get up, Green."

You can't.

"Green."

You're frozen into place. All you can do is watch him walk in front of you. He stares down at you, mouth pulled into a frown and eyes narrowed.

"Young man, I know I taught you better than this. Get up and look at me."

Instead, your arms stiffen around the egg protectively even though you know that he wouldn't hurt it. A good grandfather, he is not, but a Pokemon lover he is. Sometimes, you wonder how much different everything would be if his grandfather spared even an ounce of that love for his grandchildren.

Your hands still find themselves curling around the container, and this only infuriates him.

"Green, do you really think I would harm you?"

Yes.

"Look. At. Me."

You don't. There's hammering in your chest, barely recognizeable as your heartbeat.

That can't be good.

 "Sir, while I'm sure you have important things to discuss, unfortunately, the gym needs to open as scheduled. It would be much appreciated if you would choose a different time to confer with Green." Arabella's voice is all ice, something that Professor Oak manages to pick up on. He harrumphs in response, but withdraws with much reluctance.

Now, Bonita is in front of you, crouching down, a soft smile. "You should go inside."

You nod stiffly, get up stiffly, and walk into the gym just as stiffly. Inside, you make it behind those statues, hiding from view of the doors, before you sink to the ground with a soft thump.

Breathe.

Panicking.

Can't.

Shaking.

Can't breathe.

Dying.

And suddenly, Ida is there, a warm hand on your back.

"You're not going to die."

She's right.

But you still can't breathe. 

She starts through the normal cycle of sentences that you have memorized by heart.

"You're okay."

"You won't die."

"Everything is fine."

"Look, you're alright."

"Breathe slowly."

She squeezes my hands, gently. It takes a while, as it always does, but you make it back to breathing normally again.

You lean back against the pillar. Just a few moments to collect yourself...

If there is anything of you worth collecting.

It's almost astonishing how a single event can flip someone's world so badly, affect everything in their lives. You think it must be pathetic to hurt so badly and want so much when you have it so good. A warm home, cushy bed, food, loving Pokemon, a stable job, yet you're still overwhelmed, still drowning, still flailing and struggling when you have it all.

You stand up, shakily, carefully picking up the egg. Elan and Ida are there, offering water and warm coffee. The rest of your trainers rush to you as well, with more paperwork, interesting news, all with hidden undertones of worry in their voices and worry in their eyes. Mercifully, they don't ask you about the situation.

And so, you just like every other day, you address them with a fake smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for such a long update time. I have to really really consider how I would like this story to go.  
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!

You listen carefully to Professor Oak as he explains the new fairy type to you. Super effective against dark, dragon, fighting, half damage versus poison, fire, steel. Takes half damage against dark, bug, fighting, takes double damage from poison, steel, and complete negates dragon types moves used against them. A cute little Cleffa, brought in by Oak, is snuggling against your stomach as you sort out this new information. 

An hour ago, he showed up at the door, asking for a simple chat, and seeing no harm in it, you let him in. He'd always been warm and kind, and very eager to encourage your interest in Pokemon when you first met him, all those years ago. Once he had situated himself on a couch, he brought out the Cleffa and went straight into an informative lecture.

It's a bit dry, you think, but the information is concise, and doesn't have extra unnecessary wording. You like that about him, how... Not extra he is, at least in his essays and his lectures. The extra fluff, the beating around the bush, the sugarcoating is hard for your to figure out. With Oak, it is easy to tell what should be taken away from his talks.

You settle comfortably on the couch, and it is clear that the professor followed suit. Instead of tense and apprehensive, like you would be around most people, you are relaxed and comfortable. 

You trust him.

The professor had always been encouraging you, back when you were a child. He happily let you peruse his collection of book, explaining the meanings of words in that succinct way, even allowed you to interact with some of the Pokemon being studied at the time. The aides found you annoying and aggrravating, always "in the way", bringing you that unsettled sensation that only worsened after your journey. He would scold them all as he gave you an encouraging pat on the head, another book, a small printed article.

It doesn't feel much different now, and you think that you quite like that. You expected a scolding or lecture for leaving, or something about the abandoning of the championship, but this is nice. 

You could get used to this.

You contemplate asking Green about whether his grandfather could come over more often when he got home. A small vision of relaxed discussions of Pokemon, perhaps battle strategies, or maybe ways to better care for your Pokemon, comes into mind, and it brings a strange warmth inside. It's different from the one that Green alone brings. Warm in the chest, but not anywhere else, but it feels nice.

You want Green to feel this warmth too. 

He walks in through the door, a bag in one hand and curling around the egg with the other, and the warmth in your chest intensifies and spreads, and you want to hug him and holds his hands again.

Then, Professor Oaks speaks and everything withers away. The warmth dissipates, the relaxed demeanor vanishes. Everything about his words are cold and sharp and unfriendly, and spreads into the room, a blizzard blowing in from a cave entrance.

"Your home is quite nice, Green."

So harsh. So angry.

You feel so cold when you see Green, frozen where he stands. His face pales at the words, hands shaking as he drops the bag. They reposition themselves  securely around the egg, still trembling. 

Silence is always golden to you, but now it is suffocating. You can't say anything, and nothing comes to mind as appropriate to say, as you only watch Green look at everything except the professor, except you, and the professor looks at nothing but his grandson. 

"You're being rather rude, Green."

He moves at these words, but still doesn't look at you or his grandfather. The door is closed, the bag picked up, and Green is in the kitchen, then in his room, then back in the living room.

The professor keeps his gaze on him the entire time, and only looks away once Green sits down.

Green stares only at the cup in his hand.

Something in you shakes, but not the same way it did when there was only Green. It makes your throat close up and your heart hurt and your head spin, discocerted and uncomfortable.

The professor starts talking again, but not about Pokemon.

"I'm surprised you decided to stay with my grandson. Surely, there are _better_ people to stay with."

"I believe Viridian City is too crowded for you, especially with the amount of attention I'm sure you, and _others_ , will attract."

"There's plenty of places with less _hysterical_ roommates, I'm sure."

You start feel extremely uncomfortable, stomach cold, and palms sweaty. Green doesn't speak, still staring at the cup, still not looking at you, even as you look at him, even as the professor looks at him. 

The professor's eyes are unfeeling and merciless, and reminds you very much of the time you tried to calm Mewtwo. It must be strange to compare the two, but the gaze is the same-a cold, calm look, hiding deeper feelings. Mistrust, scorn, disdain. 

For Mewtwo, it made sense.

For the professor, it did not.

He sighs through his nose, almost a huff. It feels wrong to compare it to Green all those years ago, when they were small and unknowing, but the gesture is the same, even if the expression with it differs. The professor returns his gaze to you, and his eyes soften with warmth, crinkling at the corners, mouth in a gentle smile. The dimples appear and new wrinkles are more defined as he almost beams at you, making you wonder if the past minutes were your imagination, until a glance at Green reminds you.

"Well, Red, my boy, I think I've the _perfect_ opportunity for you."

The professor clasps your hands, much to your discomfort, but you can't quite pull them away, so they stay held. Your stomach twists at the contact, hands beginning to sweat. Relaxing is difficult, even with your own mental assurances that this is Professor Oak, a man you know and trust.

"How would you like to be my assistant?"

You just blink at him, but he is, in no way, discouraged by your lack of reaction.

"I know you enjoy working with Pokemon, and have quite an innate ability to do so. Research may be just the job that you would be suited to. There's all sorts of field work, away from bigger towns and cities, that I would happily assign to you if you'd like, and I can even approve you to travel abroad for research on foreign Pokemon as well."

Your heart jumps at the thought of exploring other regions and meeting new Pokemon, and something of it must have shown on your face, perhaps a tiny smile, or a shift in your gaze, because Professor Oak presses on, emboldened and aglow with hope.

" _I_ , of course, can and easily will accomdate any extra needs and requirements you may have of a workplace."

The professor becomes so much more animated and so much more alive as he starts a lecture about research work, and the change is fascinating. In his first lecture about the fairy type, he was very much well versed in the topic, but it didn't contain the joy Professor Oak has now, talking of his work. His hands are much more animated, no longer clasping yours in favor of motions you can't interpret. A foot taps on the ground during his pauses, his mouth curves up more as he talks, and his eyes are alight with delight when he finishes.

The professor looks a bit sheepish as he checks the time. "Well, it's been quite delightful. I'm sure there's much for you to consider, so an answer in a week's time will suffice. Should you accept, you can move into Pallet, either in with your mother, or into the lab. It's been expanded, as I'm sure I've said, and there's plenty of room."

_Move?_

Professor Oak laughs. "My boy, no need to look so shocked. It'd be much easier for you to live in Pallet Town if you choose research work with me." He pats you gently on the shoulder, causing you to shrink away slightly from the touch, but he pays it no mind. "I'm sure that you'll find yourself much happier _without_ my grandson as your roommate. Now if you pardon me..."

You stare blankly at him as he leaves, and it isn't until the door closes behind the professor that you snap out of it and quickly glance over to where Green is sitting.

Was sitting.

Green is not there.

Your heart feels heavy as you start climbing the stairs to find him.


	4. Selfish

Paychecks are due next week, along with this month's challenge data for Lance. Refuse a new shipment of badges, there's still plenty from the last shipment some months ago. Tomorrow is the day before Delibird Eve. You should close the gym for those days.

_What are you doing?_

Gym finances, roster checks, party adjustments...

You shuffle through the small pile of papers. A fresh new stack is soon to come with the beginning of a new month, as it always does, like clockwork. 

You try to distract yourself with something, anything.

_"How would you like to be my assistant?"_

Your hand freezes for a moment over the current month's documents before you put it all away with a soft sigh. You move over to your bed, tugging the blankets all around you until you're comfortably nested inside. You bring in the egg with you, the weight of it in your lap a much better and a much welcomed distraction. Warm, damp towel, gentle strokes, and the egg is clean, even if you know it never really has the chance to get dirty. It feels a little warmer to the touch, not hot enough to really notice at a simple touch, but when you pay attention, there's a small difference.

A few texts to Gold and you're assured of it's condition.

Progress.

That's good.

You hug the egg close to you, gently running a finger along the cream zig zag absentmindedly. A weight shift on the mattress signals Red's arrival after a little while. A small bloom of happiness follows, and you smile just a little, but you stay facing away from him as you put the egg back into its small container.

It hits you then, weighing you down like a heavy coat.

_He won't be there soon._

_He won't be here soon._

_He will leave soon._

Your hand starts shaking, just so slightly, trembling, right after you set the egg down. Willing it to stop doesn't work and shoving down your panic doesn't work because you only panic more.

You'll be fine, you know you'll be fine. Red had been missing for eight years. For a little less than half your life. It's...

It's just a few more years that he'll be gone.

It's fine.

It's fine.

It's nothing you can't handle.

All you have to do is be selfless and encourage him to go, to go see more of the world, to go do what you know he loves, to go and be happy.

Your heart sinks.

Be happy.

Red will not be happy here.

You know that he can't be. Keeping Red cooped up would make him miserable, very soon, very quickly.

And that would mean Gramps is right.

All you can offer Red is a small home he can't leave, food, and yourself.

As a professor, Gramps can and did offer Red a literal chance of a lifetime-fully funded trips to study Pokemon in a wild, away from other people, and a home in a very small town.

Experiences of a lifetime.

Time outside, with Pokemon.

Places to explore.

A new type to study and catch up on.

More trainers to battle.

_Look at what Red could have if I don't hold him here. Look at what my selfishness is holding from him._

_Look at how pathetic you are._

_Look._

_Look._

A gentle shake throws you out of your thoughts and with a shock, you realize you've been tightly curled up, a blanket pulled all around you, shaking. Red is kneeling over you, eyebrows knitted together, his lips pulled into a frown as he chews on his bottom lip. His hand reaches for your cheek, and when it comes away wet, his lips thin into a tight line.

You let him pull you up into a sitting position, let him lean in close, and he's touching noses with you, a strangely intimate gesture that you didn't know Red could and would do. His hands are holding yours, warm and gentle. You stay like that, with him, only you do your best to not stare into his eyes. Looking away reveals that there's something bothering you, yes, but hopefully, hopefully... He wouldn't pry. 

Well, pry any further. Red isn't stupid. Social cues and standards aren't his best, but cause and effect is easy enough.

You move to bury your face into his neck, but instead, Red tugs you into a soft kiss, one that slowly deepens into something tastier, and it's so, so warm. Pulling apart for air only takes a moment before you push for another. It's a more desperate move than you care to admit, but Red is more than happy to oblige.

When you pull away from him, Red presses for more with soft kisses to your jaw that trace down to your collarbone. You note that Red seems to like your collarbone, giving it gentle nibbles as well as kisses. Not that you mind. 

Red pauses at the shirt's collar, pulling back to look at you, expression soft and questioning. He has one hand on your shoulder, and another on the side of your torso, warmth radiating from them, even through your shirt.

You turn your face away from his gaze, gentle and kind as it is. "Nothing is wrong" is the answer you give to his question, but instead of the strong reply you want, it comes out as a low mumble. 

His whole body slumps against you in response, Red's forehead resting on your shoulder. You can feel him give a big huff, followed by a smaller one. Your hands come to rest on his back, and swallowing nervously, you gently, gently give it a rub. He doesn't give any sign of approval, but doesn't give any sign or disapproval as well, so you continue the back rub.

His back is warm, just like his arms that are wrapped around your torso. How his body emanates so much heat, you'll never know.

It strikes you then and there that maybe Red is in a perpetual fever. A ridiculous notion with none of the telltale signs of illness, but it nags at you as you keep up the back rubs.

"Red..."

A tap on your lower back.

"Come to the kitchen with me."

Red pulls away with a huff, lips in a slight pout. His barely narrowed eyes say it all as he slowly stretches into a standing position.

"I didn't ruin anything," you retort. "Just... Come."

One temperature taken later, and Red comes in at 99.7 degrees. Feeling his forehead only confirms that Red is warm, but it doesn't mean much to you when the entirety of his body does the same. You doubt the perpetual fever theory, and the hospital visit didn't reveal anything out of sorts other then Red's lack of nutrition, and your own physical troubles.

A heavt sigh escapes your lips. Totally fine, but his temperature says otherwise. Perhaps you'll take him for a checkup, if you can convince him to leave the house. Musing over your options, you slowly make your way over to the medication cabinet. You're acutely aware of Red's intense gaze as you open the blank white door, to reveal the small cluster of pill bottles sitting on the pristinely clean white shelves within. As you reach for them, more specifically the blue sticker topped one, Red shifts his position. He's very close now, easily in the "elbow him away" space.

Not that you would.

You take the number you need-it looks a bit much but you need every single one-and begin the painful ritual of swallowing each one. Every time, you wish you could have a liquid one, but they do not mix well with the rest of your medications.

Painful pills it is.


	5. Planted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is very slow, and I think that's alright with me. I hope you like it still.

 Green is shaking again.

When you wake up, your body heat combined with the blankets means sweat dampens your clothes overnight. It's really too warm, but you don't throw off the blankets because Green, always feeling cold, needs them and you really like - really love - hugging him. 

You can feel it as you pull yourself closer, slipping one arm around him, the other awkwardly squished between your bodies. The tremors are small, easy to sleep through, even with contact, and that bothers you, in a way that rationally should not.

But it does.

The clock tells you it's past the time he normally wakes up. There's no alarm, and you feel no obligation to wake him up. He needs every minute that he can take, even at the cost of other things in his life. The way Green chooses to do everything except take better care of himself also nags at you.

He is always sleepy.

He is always cold.

You can feel something bubble within you, a small but fierce fire. It swells every time you think about Green, but only when you think about Green shaking, crying, not sleeping, struggling with pills. 

Anger?

That isn't it, you think. It's much closer to the times... The time you wished you could speak.

Frustration.

That is what you are feeling.

You're here, and you've stayed here, but Green is only a bit better. "Not dying" is good, but you can't help but wonder if it is too greedy, or maybe too cold and insensitive, to want him to get better, sooner rather than later. 

A soft pang of guilt shakes your body. It's not that you don't love Green as he is now, even with all of his pain and troubles, but you miss hearing him laugh, and seeing him smile. A real, warm smile, almost as if he was about to laugh. The one he wore all the time, years ago, when you arrived on his birthdays, when he saw you at school, when he opened the door to your knocking, when he talked about Pokemon, when he did well on a silly quiz, when...

When you both were so small.

You think that smile would look great on Green now, all grown and tanned and really, quite pretty. It would surely look so much better than the smile he has now, the one that never reaches his eyes, and never shows teeth, and always has soft sadness in it. 

Is it bad that you want something that is so long past? You're not sure what exactly is normal for closer relationships. Perhaps this is a sign that you are a terrible boyfriend. Surely, a relationship doesn't go this way, doesn't have someone feeling that they miss their partner when they're right here and right there. 

Maybe Blue will have some insight. Green is struggling already, and you see no reason to make it harder for him, although the idea of not being able to tell him hurts a little. 

A soft huff is all you allow yourself before you curl yourself around him, tucking in blankets where you can to keep him warm. You aren't sleepy, so you settle for just cradling him.

It doesn't last as long as you wish it would. Green wakes up, no longer than an hour later, and slowly rolls out of bed. You sit up and watch him as he meanders to the bathroom, a yawn on his face and eyes half closed. He leaves slightly more bright eyed and no longer yawning. He beelines for the closet, and it's only when you realize he's spent almost half an hour that he comes back out. Green raises an eyebrow at your stare, but heads down the stairs without pause.

The time taken led you to think that his outfit would be different, much different, even if you didn't know why you thought that in particular. He is wearing more formal wear, but instead of matching colors, which you assume is the norm, his top is black and his pants are brown.

It looks just like his normal job attire but... Fancier?

You can feel the sides of your lips slowly stretching upwards as you make your way down the stairs after him.

* * *

 

There's no warning when the doorknob turns, startling you. The trust you have in your Pokemon's judgment means you stay calm, and Blue breezes into the living room. It seems her stunt on forcing them all asleep is somewhat forgiven, or at the very least, tolerated.

She continues past you, into the kitchen. A cup is plucked out of a shelf, filled with ice, then a drink from the refrigerator, all without looking. Blue's eyes are on you, and you return the gaze in kind.

Her eyes match her namesake, but they make you think of the ocean. They were wonderfully clear and bright when she walked in earlier, but when she trained her gaze on you, they turned dark and stormy. Brooding. The way she looks at you makes you wonder if that's how you look in battle, eyes slighty narrow, and completely unfazed by the knowledge that the subject is aware of observation.

Her attention switches once she plops into a side, back against one arm, legs up on another. The TV flicks on at her command with a button, and it begins to flip through channels, a little too fast. It settles on some news channel. Seeing the reporters sets you on edge, even though you know they aren't here, and they aren't interviewing people. Blue huffs, lips in a frown, but the remote is set back onto the table. 

_"What are you doing here?"_

A snort. "The usual. Why would I change anything now that Green's got a housebound roommate?"

You shrug. That's fine by you but...

_"He won't be back for some hours."_

"Yes, yes." A hand is fluttered dismissively in your direction. "Delibird Day Eve, he's got to show up to the League-wide interview, withstand the reporter's onslaught, blah blah, then he's back and we can relax."

You, Green, and Blue. This is also fine by you, even if a _League-wide_ interview isn't. Rational thought points out that Green handles himself plenty well, until he doesn't.

"The Johtos are coming, but way later. It'll be a sleepover."

Your stomach flips a little. Green will be here, Green will be here, the kids are alright...

"You really don't like people." Not a question, confident. She's observing you again, on her stomach, arms and head propped one armrest, legs waving in the air. Stormy.

Your lips are pressed together before you know it, and you lower your gaze. There's a sigh.

"You and him have weird things about people." 

The silence between you and her stretches on, even with the TV noise of chattering reporters. It's not weird, not to you. You prefer to just... Not. Green prefers to just... Do.

_Too much. For different reasons. For different problems._

A knock makes you and Blue jump in your seats. Together, you and her snap your gazes to the door, confused. However, she hurries to the door anyway, one eyebrow raised.

"Miss Masami?"

Every muscle in your body relaxes.

"Hello, dear... Might I come in?"

There's more wrinkles than you think there should be, but her smile is the same, and it stretches just a bit wider as she makes her way and envelops you in a hug. It's as warm as you remember, although you notice that her arms are a tad thinner, and her hands tremble slightly against your back, and her breath is a little shaky, and her hair has many more white strands, and...

"Welcome home."

There are tears with her smile, eyes shimmering with happiness, but you didn't miss the exhaustion and pain under it all.

_People change._

She and Green.

A soft clink alerts you to Blue setting a teapot and a cup down. The hug is pulled away from. A warm smile from one and a soft smile from the other is exchanged between the two women. Blue retreats to her previous chair, glances at her phone, stares at the TV.

But her eyes are still stormy.

"Red."

Soft and warm. Comfort. You look to your mother, reciprocating the smile you see. She reaches for both of your hands, clasps them together in her own as best she can. Your hands are easily much larger.

_The last time she did this, she could still cup your hands in her own._

Her gaze remains on your face, eyes slowly travelling from feature to feature. Her smile brightens and fades as she goes, eyes flashing through love and pain. She settles on your eyes. Her lips twitch, but there's a long pause.

She looks down at her lap, her hands, before looking back up. One hand reaches, gentle, rests on your face. You pick up on a soft, three note hum.

_Ah._

_Can't._

You can't...

But you try anyway. 

_Coughing and coughing._

_It really hurts._

When it stops, you find your forehead resting on her left shoulder, awkwardly leaning on her. One of her hands is patting your head, the other, your back. A glance tells you that Blue is staring, abandoning her pretense.

"I'm sorry," your mother says, her voice heavier. "I thought... But I should've known better that you wouldn't have kept it up once your journey began." 

Raising your head from her shoulder causes her to shift the hand on your back to the front of your neck, more specifically, your Adam's apple.

She's right. Once your journey began, you didn't continue with it.

You don't remember at when exactly was the moment that tipped the scales, that you would never regain your voice, at least, without surgery or outside touch ups. On your journey, you didn't mind. Pokemon didn't mind or care on whether he had a physical voice. They were, and still are, perceptive, all of them. They understand you, and you them. Pokemon trainers, the ones who further their career beyond the initial journey, the gym leaders and elite four, they didn't understand, but they didn't mind. 

You let a huff out through your nose, one hand reaching for the one at your throat. Her hand drops before you reach it. 

There's so much warmth and love in the small kiss she presses to your cheek.

_Could you do something like that for Green?_

She settles back into couch, facing the screen. You copy her. Her hand makes its way to yours, where it traces little circles on the back. It's comfortable.

Your mother doesn't ask anything more. Most of what she wants to know can be just confirmed by you existing right next to you. She already asked about your voice. The only other questions left, you know that she already guessed a long time ago.

Blue is still watching both of you. Her lips are pressed together, eventually scrunching into a pout.

She doesn't ask.

The room settles back into silence. Blue returns her attention to the TV, your mother doing the same. You opt to stare at window, shades drawn down. 

She isn't upset. The thought warms you, eases some tense knots you didn't know you had. There's guilt for leaving her, for not telling her, but it seems she'd forgiven him long ago. She knows you, so well.

A light tap on your arm. Your mother's expression still smiling, but this time time doesn't reach her eyes, uncertainty in its stead.

"We need to talk."

You tilt your head, blinking slowly. Eyes slide to Blue, but your mother shakes her head.

"She might already know, but if she doesn't... Well."

The silence draws out. Blue is listening, gaze locked onto your mother. She fiddles with her thumbs. There's no smile now, a pained frown taking its place. 

"Many would say it is not my place to say this, but Red... You should know. The two of them are stubborn. Green and Samuel, I mean. Neither will likely ever tell you what happened between them, but since you do enjoy both of their companies, it's best you know that they are not on speaking terms, and why."

* * *

 The League interview session continues smoothly, easily. The same basic, easy questions. You try to keep focus. The free rein for questioning will be soon, and it doesn't take a genius to figure they would all be after you, just for anything on Red.

Then, your phone gives a soft ping. Eyes snap to you. A small amount of heat travels to your face. You can only hope it doesn't show. You swear you muted your phone, and if not your entire phone, you've muted every single person on the list at this point.

The ping had interrupted a question for Misty, who laughs, and rolls with it. "Let's see what's so important, if that's alright with you!"

You roll your eyes, but you give it up to her. Its likely Blue, or the Johto kids, something frivolous for the small party later.

"Oooooh, it's from Red."

The entire room snaps to attention, some obvious, some not so. The interviewers are far, far too alight with glee, just barely contained and managed.

Chills creep in through your fingers, your toes.

Misty is holding back a laugh, but everything happy falls away when she actually looks at the text. 

The cold crawls into your arms and legs.

Her eyes slide to you. The shock is there, and pity? Pain?

It's hard not to shiver, not when your entire body feels like it's freezing.

Misty doesn't read a single word out, just silently passes your phone back, looking almost ashamed.

You've never been more grateful for being able to hide your feelings.

 

_**Red: Why didn't you tell me that you were kicked out because of me?** _


End file.
